


Scarred, Beautiful

by SmallFry15005



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cobb Vanth is Mandosexual, F/M, Fluff, Keldabe Kiss, ManDadlorian, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Respect to love, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, There's nothing wrong with being orthodox, Touch-Starved, Trauma, and Din Djarin deserves love, soft smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallFry15005/pseuds/SmallFry15005
Summary: "We have another bounty puck.  Some creep kidnapped a baby and ran away with it, and, judging by the fob, they're close!"Meeting a real Mandalorian was a one-in-a-lifetime experience.  Having three more show up in green-painted armor was too much of a coincidence, and coincidences made Cobb Vanth nervous.  Hearing those words over the comms, though, that made is stomach turn.  What were the chances three Mandalorians showed up the very day one left with his kid?
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Minor Cobb Vanth/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Characters
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Thousands of years ago, the Seratic system housed the largest empire in the galaxy. Fitting that its imploding sun provided refuge for the remains of another empire, the Tagaloa clan’s great ship hovering just out of orbit, gratefully accepting what natural light and warmth the dying star gave. Sometimes, if Etta hesitated for too long, her eyes would involuntarily be drawn to a distant spot right of the star, something distant tugging at her gut. 

Fortunately, Fe was always there to snap her out of it along with a constant stream of responsibilities, knocking into Etta’s shoulder as she walked past with an armful of bacta patches.  
“Hey, you good?”  
“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good. Just needed a minute.”  
“Good, because A’den is here and we’ve still got a full schedule.”   
Despite their great ship’s isolation from the rest of the galaxy, the infirmary never lacked visitors, usually regulars such as the elderly or those with chronic illnesses. A’den, Etta’s foster uncle, was her personal favorite though he normally only came once a cycle for bacta shots in the base of his spine. As much as he denied it, decades of armor and fighting had taken a toll on his body. He’d come in, she’d inject the bacta, he’d notify her of any additional pain in five words or less, and they’d be on their way. Exactly how they liked it.

Today A’den had come in for a nasty head wound. He’d taken his helmet off during training to properly yell at a foundling, stepped without looking, and nearly gotten his skull split open by a baton.  
“Pain?”  
“No.” Etta cut loose thread off the end of a row of stitches, sprayed another layer of bacta for good measure then began to apply gauze, mindful not to apply too much pressure.  
“No helmet until it heals. Come back if the headache lasts more than three days. Sho will get you pain meds.”  
“Don’t need ‘em.”  
“Understood.” Neither spoke until Etta completed her task and stepped back. A’den stood, nodded his thanks, and left without a word. Exactly how they liked it.

Unfortunately, when the door whooshed open for A’den to leave it revealed two gremlins lingering on the other side. Marty and Fa’oa at least had the sense to jump back and bow their head respectfully to A’den who brushed past the two without a word, putting his helmet on his head as he walked away. Etta, for her part, was cleaning up- throwing bloody gauze into the biobin, stripping the bed, and replacing displaced items, also ignoring the teenagers. Not that it mattered much.  
“Etta, you’re never going to believe what happened,” Marty gasped as she rushed into the room, Fa’oa on her heels. Etta began to sanitize her scissors. 

“Ett,” Marty whined, shoving her face too close to Etta’s, “Etta, you won’t believe it.” Etta finished with her scissors and placed them back into their drawer.  
“Etta,” Fa’oa’s voice was uncharacteristically breathy, his face flushed as he pushed Marty out of the way and looked at his foster sister with bright eyes, “Etta, I got a tracking fob. I got my first tracking fob.” He fumbled the last word with a gasping laugh, like he couldn’t believe it. Like this was the greatest moment of his life.   
Marty could be annoying, but Fa’oa was different.  
Etta dropped her scissors on the table and leaned against the counter, “From where? Did one of the fly boys give it to you?”  
Fa’oa flushed and shuffled his feet, “I don’t have it yet. I need to pick it up.”  
“Have you talked to Makoa?”  
“I…. yes. He. He said “no”.”

“Oh,” Etta’s mouth twisted in symphathy, “I’m sorry, Oa. That must have been hard”  
“But,” Fa’oa interjected, still energetic for someone who’d been denied their dream, “My contact garrot-, guaran-, promised it’s mine. I just need to get to Naboo and it’s mine.”  
“Okay, but first you need to get to Naboo.”  
“Yes, but-”  
“And Makoa forbid it?”  
“I-” Fa’oa looked at Marty for encouragement, “We, we.. were hoping you could help.”  
Silence, then: “No.”  
“We just need to get there,” Marty jumped in, “You don’t even have to do anything.”  
“No.”  
“You can stay on the ship.”  
“No.” Maybe if she said it louder, they would finally get it.  
“We’ll do the rest.”

“Huh,” Etta rolled her head, slowly cracking her neck to gather her thoughts, “To be clear, you want me to lie to everyone, take the two of you to Naboo to collect a tracking fob, and then, what? Spend the next four months wandering the galaxy and making excuses for our absence while you two look for a bail jumper? Do you have any idea how much of a risk that is for me?”  
Fa’oa flinched and jumped out of her way, raising his hands in a placating manner, “No! No, no, not exactly… We, uh, we… Uhh…” He waved for Marty to jump in.  
“We already know where they are!” Marty babbled, “They’re on Tatooine and it’s not a bail jumper, it’s an ex-imp! Naboo’s not far from Tatooine. We’ll be quick, I swear!”  
“Listen,” Etta deposited the last of the trash into the receptacle and gave her siblings a look, “I love you two. You know I do. And I know how much this means to you. But my answer is no.”

Fa’oa and Marty had immediately began protesting, Fa’oa close to tears, but the arrival of Fe and Etta’s next patient encouraged them to shut their traps and move along, Marty looking particularly betrayed. Etta’s patient was three months pregnant, her nervousness making her too friendly. She cried when she saw a hologram of her baby, causing Etta to look away in discomfort, her eyes accidentally finding that distant spot right of the dying sun. The first pregnant woman she had ever seen had been 

\Kryz’s wife, Boa, who’d been heavy with their first at the time. Etta could still remember the confusion of seeing someone so round, like the woman had swallowed a planet whole. Boa hadn’t been particularly pleased with Kryz for bringing a foundling home when they already had one on the way, but space had been made, and the couple had given a life to the girl who’d lost everything. She owed them everything.

Her gut tugged, thinking of another pregnant woman, not much younger than Marty. Fa’oa and Marty were adults in the eyes of the clan, but teenagers still, and stubborn ones at that. If Etta didn’t help them, they’d find someone else, or, gods forbid, leave alone, and then what? Well trained though they may be, the two were naive to the galaxy and rarely ventured beyond the great ship. She couldn’t leave them alone.  
A hand touched her arm, tearing Etta from the spot.  
“Sorry,” she hastily apologized, “I got a little lost. Would you like holopics for your partner?”

Four patients later, it was finally time for lunch. Declining Fe’s offer to eat together, Etta went instead to the main hangar, where she found Boa disemboweling a cruiser, surrounded by two more ships in various stages of repair. Politely knocking to alert her foster mother of her presence, Etta waited for the older woman to roll herself from under the ship.   
Boa inspected Etta with a critical eye, whipping grease of her hands before asking in a clipped voice, “What did you do?”  
Etta laughed and leaned against the ship, “Nothing yet.”  
“Huh,” Boa grumbled, taking a swig from her canteen. The two silently watched a man teach his foundling of about ten to repair a R4 droid, carefully walking the child through each step before having them repeat it. Across the hanger, a twi’lek greeted his lover with lunch, earning a kiss in return. Someone was singing a wedding song somewhere behind them, only to have a wrench thrown their way. Etta cracked a smile at the sight. This was nice. Being here was nice. Why didn’t her gut see that?

“Your kids want me to take them to Tatooine.”  
“Huh,” Boa screwed the cap onto the canteen, “What for?”  
“Fa’oa received a bounty puck.”  
Boa brightened for a moment, then said sadly “Makoa refused, didn’t he?” There was uncommon vulnerability in her voice.  
Etta nodded, “Yes. Fa’oa’s lungs are weak and Marty is still very young. It stands to reason he wouldn’t allow it.”  
“It does,” Boa agreed, all signs of vulnerability disappearing behind a mask.  
“I-,” Etta hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, “I feel I should accompany them. I do not wish to lie to Makoa, but the feeling will not leave me.”

Boa nodded, “I see.” She tapped the canteen against her calf. The R4 droid shrieked as it wheeled past, foundling and father not far behind. “What stops you?”  
“It would put me at great risk,” Etta admitted.  
“Makoa likes you. If they are successful, all will be forgiven.”  
“True, but, I-” Etta hesitated again. For a moment, she wanted to tell Boa of the pregnant girl with slit wrists and how haunted her, how not everything could be forgiven. Instead she said “I fear where my gut may take me.”  
Boa sighed, pushing her hair back, leaving a trail of grease behind, “Your buir is better suited for these conversations. Etta, you, you are different. You always have been. Given where my husband found you, it stands to reason you would be. If your gut tells you to do something, I,” she tapped the canteen again, “I say follow it.” She raised her orange eyes to meet Etta’s blues and offered a half smile that looked more like a grimace.  
Etta half smiled back, “Thank you, buir.”  
“Eh,” Boa waved the canteen dismissively, dropping it next to her legs with a thump, “Just don’t tell Kryz. He coddles you too much.” Conversation over, Boa wheeled herself back under the belly of the cruiser, leaving Etta to collect her thoughts.

Finding Marty and Fa’oa once her shift ended wasn’t difficult. The two had sequestered themselves away in Marty’s room within their family quarters. Fa’oa shared with their other brother, Zayn, making his room inhospitable to secrets. The two jumped out of their skins at her arrival, guiltily trying to hide something under a blanket until they realized it was only Etta.  
“I’ll talk to Makoa,” was all she said, leaning against the doorframe. Immediately the two were on their feet and crowding her.  
“Really?”  
“What are you going to tell Makoa?”  
“You said they’re on Tatooine? I’ll say I want to search for one of the lost and wish to take you with me. If, if, you’re successful, we’ll tell the truth. Otherwise we never speak of this again, do you understand?” The two had immediately voiced their assent, too excited to think of consequences, only to be stopped by Etta again,   
“One more thing. This is your bounty. I’ll get you where you need to go and act as backup if need be, but it’ll be you two calling the shots, okay?” The prospect seemed to thrill them.

And so, the next morning, Etta stood before the clan’s enormous patriarch. No one left the great ship without permission from Makoa himself, and, even then, usually only adults. For Etta to take both of her foster siblings could prove disasterous. Armor donned and helmet at her side, Etta entered the forge and knelt on a cushion within the entrance, carefully placing her helmet before her. There she remained until Makoa deemed her worthy to halt his work, leaving the great forge in the hands of his apprentices. As he approached, Etta leaned forward, bowing at the waist from where she knelt until her forehead brushed her helmet, hands palm down against the floor on either side, staying that way as Makoa sat and removed his own helmet, placing it before him.

“Not often do the foundlings of my own foundling come before me. What do you seek?” Makoa rumbled, his voice echoing from deep within his chest. As a child Etta thought Makoa was the largest being in the universe. As an adult she was inclined to agree. He was a warrior of a different era, hardened and massive, missing most of the right side of his face from a distant battle. Luckily, she knew he also had a soft spot for Kryz and his foundlings.  
Straightening, Etta rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, making sure to meet Makoa’s eyes before speaking, “I wish to seek one of the lost on Tatooine.” Makoa nodded solemnly, as if her request was expected. “And I wish to bring with me my brother and sister.”

Makoa paused, his brows briefly drawing together, “This is an unusual request.”  
“Fa’oa and Marty are both grown in the eyes of the clan.” Etta fought to keep her face still as Makoa studied her, her nose suddenly itching fiercely.  
“Fa’oa is the one with weak lungs?”  
“A proven warrior who partook of a verd’goten at thirteen, as have we all.” The warrior part was a bit of a stretch, with one exception, the only fights Fa’oa had ever taken part of were trainings or petty squabbles with Marty, which she usually won, but Makoa didn’t need to know that.   
“And this has nothing to do with the bounty offered to Fa’oa?”   
“No.” The great patriarch was silent for a long moment, considering her carefully for any deceit, then nodded his blessing.   
“Go, take your brother and sister, and return in glory.”

Kryz was more difficult to convince, their father seeming to see right through the trio, while Boa practically packed the ship for them. Their mother had been raised more strictly in the laws of Mando’a than Kryz; her people were warriors, and her children deserved a chance to prove themselves.

Lying in bed that night, Etta memorized the rumbling of the great ship, how it pulsed with the life of every being on board. A soothing energy of dozens of families. In her gut, she felt it would be a long time before she felt this again. Rolling onto her stomach, she slipped a hand under her pillow to feel the cool metal cylinder hidden beneath, squeezing her eyes closed to take comfort in the one thing that truly brought her fear.

Marty and Fa’oa buzzed with excitement the whole way to Naboo, producing such a steady stream of chatter that before they even reached hyperspace, Etta had already banished the pair to the hull, along with the astrotech droid, a janky Republic-era R2 Fa’oa insisted they bring along. He’d spent the last four years meticulously restoring the droid, often begging his way onto departing ships to locate parts he couldn’t make himself on whatever planet was being visited.   
This was perhaps partially why Makoa hadn’t wanted him to take the bounty, as the last time Fa’oa had been allowed off ship, he’d drawn attention from local authorities after starting a fight with a vendor over circuits. The darn thing was still half broken and often devolved into high-pitched beeps, effectively driving Etta insane on the best of days, let alone when she was this worked up. It was only once silence reigned and stars flew past did she release a white knuckled grip and a shaky breath, sinking back into the pilot’s seat. For the first time in months, her gut felt calm, no invisible string pulling her to an unknown location; it made her nervous.

Naboo. Tatooine. Home. Naboo. Tatooine. Home. She whispered the mantra in her mind. Naboo. Tatooine. Home. No deviations. This would be fine. Maybe. Still not convinced, Etta pulled her legs up into a cross-legged position and straightened in the pilot seat, determined to meditate on the mantra. As a child, before Kryz had found her on Coruscant, meditation had been ingrained into her, refusing to be uprooted despite years of training in the fighting corps. If meditation failed her, she would run through fighting routines instead, trying to beat her current record of kicks made without letting her foot touch the ground.

Before allowing Fa’oa and Marty to disembark on Naboo, Etta insisted they practice exactly what they were going to say to the Fa’oa’s contact. After the fifth run, Marty was antsy and maybe offended, but Fa’oa had consistently said “bounty” without stuttering, so it was worth it. “Leave your helmets on,” she warned as they left.   
The two were back within two hours, proudly presenting their sister with the tracking fob, which she inspected with raised brow, then looked at the two, who seemed thrilled. Shrugging, she handed it back to Fa’oa with an encouraging smile, congratulated him, and climbed into the cockpit to route their course to Naboo. If Fa’oa and Marty didn’t notice anything, she wasn’t going to ruin it for them.

Nearing Tatooine, Etta flipped the comms, connecting her to the main hull, “We’re about to enter the atmosphere. Where am I dropping you?” From the cockpit she could here fierce debating, and maybe a small fight, before Fa’oa got on the comms,  
“Would you mind taking us to these coordinates? I think our guy’s hiding out in a settlement there.”  
“Roger that.”  
The settlement didn’t register on any of the scanners, causing Etta to accidentally fly overhead and have to turn the ship aboutface, landing just outside of town. Climbing down into the hull, she joined her siblings in lowering the ramp and taking their first good look at their bounty’s hiding spot. A cluster of worn, domed buildings made up Mos Pelgo, which frankly looked like it was slowly disappearing back into the desert sands. Equally worn people populated the town, hiding from the suns beneath awnings and shaded doorways, where they were better able to suspiciously eye the newcomers.

“I don’t like this,” Marty breathed, looking almost ill at the sight.  
“Don’t worry,” Fa’oa encouraged, “We got this.”  
“Keep your helmets on and stay alert,” Etta warned, “I’ll check in over the comms in an hour.”   
“You’ll help us if something happens, right?”  
“I will. Remember though, this is your bounty. I’m just the pilot.”

Fa’oa gave a thumbs up and strode down the ramp, Marty close behind, stumbling at the bottom as she tried to adjust her helmet while walking. Watching the two go, Etta was about to close the hatch when someone caught her eye. A man in a red shirt leaned openly against one of the buildings, not bothering to hide himself like the rest of the town. When he noticed her looking his way, he smirked and nodded his head with a jaunty wink. Etta knew he couldn’t see her surprised response through her helmet, but that didn’t seem to matter to him, judging by the agonizingly slow once over he conducted with her knowing consent. His eyes returning to her helmet, the man gestured with his chin towards the cantina he was leaning against before confidently walking inside. She considered the offer for a moment, then shook her head and hit the button to close the hull. This wasn’t the time for handsome strangers.

Ten minutes later, the R2 unit malfunctioned again, driving Etta from the ship with it’s incessant beeping. Maybe the handsome stranger was still there. Maybe he had food.


	2. Chapter 2

Meeting a real Mandalorian was a one-in-a-lifetime experience. Having three more show up in green-painted armor was too much of a coincidence, and coincidences made Cobb Vanth nervous. Sitting inside the cantina, he waited for the third Mandalorian, the one who’d stayed with their ship, to join him. They never did. Instead, the other two wandered in, tracking fob in hand, clearly startling a group of miners enjoying their dinner. The two didn’t seem to notice, or, at least, didn’t think they needed to notice, one, the tall one, leaning over the counter to speak with the bartender while the other leaned against it to observe the room.

For a moment there was a tense crackling of energy, and then one of the miners whipped out a blaster, shooting the Mandalorian facing the room in the chest. She - Cobb assumed it was a she, based on their voice and armor cut - swore loudly and fell backward, the shot having glanced harmlessly off her beskar but surely knocking the wind from her lungs. The other one whirled around, blaster drawn but didn’t shoot as the three other miners jumped up, blasters out. Cobb had jumped up as well, blaster in each hand, trained on both groups.   
“Easy now, folks,” he warned.

The cantina doors swung open and the third Mandalorian walked in. They paused, taking in the scene, then raised their hands in a sign of peace. Walking to the bar, they ignored everyone in the room, choosing instead to sit near the wall, where the bartender had taken refuge.  
“Something strong, please.” Weequay hesitated, unsure of what to do, but began to move when Cobb gave him a reassuring nod, pulling out a bottle of booze and a shot glass, which he poured for the Mandalorian. They took the glass, and, pushing up their helmet just enough, swallowed the shot in one go.  
“You have anything to eat?”  
”Ett,” the tall one said, followed by something in their own language that sounded like a question.   
Etta waved a hand, “It’s your bounty,” and poured themself another glass, gratefully accepting a plate of food the bartender presented, tearing a piece of bread in half and shoving it up their helmet.

Once it was clear the third Mandalorian had no intention of joining the fight, Cobb turned his attention back to the two groups, who’s blasters were still drawn.  
“Now,” he licked his lips, “If you folks wouldn’t mind putting those blasters down, I’m sure we can come to a peaceful resolution.”  
“I ain’t going in for no bounty,” one of the miners snarled.  
“You’re not our bounty, dumbass,” the female Mandalorian weazed, pulling herself to her feet using a barstool. When the miner made no indication he believed her, she nudged the tall one, “Fa’oa, show him the puck.”

The tall one, Fa’oa, hesitated for a moment, then holstered his blaster and retrieved a puck from his belt. Activating it, he presented the room with a holopic of a human male in his fifties.  
“His name’s Dakle, he’s an ex-imp. Last known coordinates were near here.”  
Most of the miners calmed down, but one remained unconvinced, “You got any other pucks in there?” He demanded, waving his blaster at the man’s belt.  
To his credit, Fa’oa didn’t flinch, “None.”

That seemed to appease the miner, who holster his weapon and quickly left, companions not far behind. Cobb doubted they would still be in Mos Pelgo come nightfall. Holstering his own weapon, he gave his full attention to the three Mandalorians.  
“So what brings three Mandalorians to Mos Pelgo?”  
The kid waved his puck in the air, “Told you, bounty.”  
“That it?”  
“Who are you?” the girl snapped, stepping forward protectively, one hip angled away from him.  
“Cobb Vanth, marshall of Mos Pelgo.”  
“Oh. Uh,” the two looked at each other, then at the third, “Etta?” Etta shrugged and responded in Mando’a.  
The girl stamped her foot, “Yes, you do speak basic!”  
“Huh.” More food disappeared under the mask.

Cautiously, the tall one, Fa’oa approached Cobb’s table and extended his hand, “Fa’oa Beviin. This is Marty,” he gestured at the girl, “And Etta.” The third one nodded from the bar. “You asked why else we would come to this city. Why?”  
“Figured I might ask, seeing another Mandalorian and his kid came through here a few days ago. Left just earlier this afternoon.”  
The three Mandalorians looked at each other for a long moment before Fa’oa decided to respond, “Our clan is secluded. We know no others in this region.”  
“Well,” Cobb raised his glass in a mock salute, “It’s a pity he missed you.” 

“Have you ever heard of Dakle?” Marty asked, bringing the conversation back to their bounty. Cobb noticed vaguely red designs painted onto the sides of her helmet as she took a seat.  
“Show me the puck again?” Fa’oa obliged. “Nah, can’t say I have. Looks familiar though, might have passed through here once or twice.”  
“Follow the fob then?”  
She’d meant it as a question for Fa’oa, but Cobb found himself cutting in regardless, “I’d be careful, if I were you. Desert’s a big place, especially with that ship of yours. He’d see you coming far before you saw him.”  
“Huh…” two fingers rapidly tapped on the table as the kid considered his options, “You know where we could get some speeders?”

As a matter of fact, the marshal did know where to find a pair of speeders, taking the trio to Jo’s shop. Though still riding off the high of their Mandalorian-lead victory over the Krayt Dragon, Jo still needed to make a living, and high-balled the newcomers, though admittedly less than she would another stranger. Fa’oa reached into his belt, hesitated, and asked Etta, who lingered nearby, something in their own language, only to receive another shrug and what sounded like a sarcastic comment.  
Grumbling, he turned to Cobb, “What is a reas-, reas-, reasonable price for two speeders?”  
Surprised but flattered, Cobb thought a moment, “I’d say 150 credits per day per speeder’s pretty reasonable, wouldn’t you, Jo?”  
Jo grumbled, giving him a soft glare, but agreed, waiting patiently while the kids did some quick math with their fingers, whispering quietly together before Fa’oa happily agreed, asking “We don’t know how long we’ll be gone, probably a few days, but may we pay 300 credits now and leave our pilot as collateral?” Etta snorted from the back.

Leaving Jo’s shop, Cobb finally asked the question that had been niggling in the back of his mind, “How old are you, kid?”  
“Old enough,” Marty declared confidently.  
“Uh, twenty-four?” Fa’oa lied.  
Cobb’s face must have given away his doubt, because the two quickly backpedaled.   
“Would you believe twenty-two?” Fa’oa tried again.  
“For the both or only you?”  
“Either?”  
“Nop,” Cobb shook his head, “Can’t say I would.”  
“We’re adults by Mandalorian standards,” Marty insisted.  
“What about the rest of the galaxy?”  
Fa’oa hesitated, then admitted, “I’m eighteen. Marty’s fourteen.”  
“And your… friend?” Cobb gestured towards Etta, throwing a teasing wink over his shoulder.  
“Old,” all three intoned.

Fa'oa and Marty declined to wait until morning, choosing instead to shoot off into the desert with only a few hours of sunlight remaining.  
“They gonna be okay out there?” Cobb asked, watching the pair disappear into the horizon. They stood at the edge of town, the twin suns at their back.  
“They’ll be fine,” Etta nodded to herself, turning on a heel to return to her ship, but stopped when Cobb spoke again.  
“You know, I’d invite you back to my place for a drink, but I know it’s not really the Mandalorian way.”  
Etta considered this, cocking her helmet at the man, “It depends on the Mandalorian.” 

“Oh!” Cobb spun around and swayed his way to stand behind her, “So you do speak basic! Well, what do you say, stranger? Drinks and dinner? Maybe something after? You are an,” he looked her over, “adult under there, right?”  
Etta snorted, “You don’t even know if I’m male or female under this armor, do you?”  
Cobb just shrugged, “Honestly, it don’t matter to me, s’long as you’re interested.”  
“The helmet stays on.”  
He grinned and licked his teeth, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

O.o.O

Going home with Cobb wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. He was a handsome stranger with food who didn’t mind that she tipped her helmet up to eat. It probably didn’t help the mythos surrounding Mandalorians to do so, but it made her feel safe. The home itself wasn’t much, a main room with an attached kitchen, ‘fresher, and adjoining bathroom. It was originally intended for two or more men, miners, to share between shifts, but being marshal allowed Cobb the freedom of privacy.

It was agreeing to spochka and Corellian whiskey that was a bad idea. Allowing Cobb to lift her helmet with one finger and kiss her with whiskey lips was a bad idea. Kissing back was a bad idea. But when he looked at her with that smile, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he lifted her hand to his mouth and bit the tip of her finger, slowly removing her glove with his teeth, his eyes took her breath away.  
He helped her remove her armor, finding hidden clasps between each plate, trailing his lips along the exposed skin and sending shivers down her spine. His fingers hesitated when they found the puckered scar on her back, trailing from shoulder to hip, but chose to kiss her deeply rather than ask questions or look at her with pity. From the doorway of the bedroom, where he gently laid her armor in a pile on the floor, she allowed him to lead her to his bunk, pushing him to lay on his back as he ghosted his hands over her hips.

His pupils were blown wide, implying arousal, but there was something else there too. Something reverent. He looked at her like she was something divine.

O.o.O

Cobb Vanth had never been one for prayer, but, that night, watching the Tatooine moons illuminate the breasts of the last of the Mandalorians as she arched above him, it was almost enough to make a religious man out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than I'd wanted, but that couldn't be helped. Originally I did not plan on Etta and Cobb interacting much, but I liked the character's interactions a lot. Let's be real, Cobb Vanth is Mando-sexual. If our Mando had stuck around longer, Cobb would have tried his luck there too lol.
> 
> Mando coming next chapter! See y'all Wednesday!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted a fanfic since high school and I'm super nervous! Hopefully y'all like our first chapter. I will be updating every Wednesday and following the events of Season Two as they unfold.


End file.
